


Deep Blue

by Bleachcake



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: SorMik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleachcake/pseuds/Bleachcake
Summary: Short drabble inspired by the fundamental physical differences between human and seraphim and how that would effect the naive mind of a child when you can't experience the same world as your best friend. (Relationship tag is for a companion piece coming.)





	Deep Blue

I wanted to show it to him.

No… show wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t something you could look at and just know what the sensation was going to be like. Not for the first time, anyway.

I wanted him to _feel_ it.

I craved the things we could both enjoy together, even coveted them, perhaps. On the surface, there were many things two young boys could experience together, and we did. But so far, nothing like this.

I circled my fist around his slightly larger wrist and pulled him right up to the water’s edge. The small pool was a rare find in the mountainous regions, at least at this altitude, I had discovered. Two large boulders had trapped the body of the brook, swelling its edges and eroding the rock until it had created a calm pocket, only deep enough to reach the chest of a grown adult. It would be well over our heads.

At first I had delighted in the find as a source for food, seeing trout occasionally dart from their underwater coves. Brightly colored newts would flee from the upturned rocks by our feet to burrow into the decaying sticks and leaves that were slowly being eaten up by the bank. Even at this age, it had been engrained in the both of us to constantly be on the lookout for such things, even if only one of us truly needed the food to survive. But after many attempts snatching at fish with my bare hands, cold water up to my waist and boots heavy as I sloshed about, my purpose changed.

I didn’t notice at the start. The fish went back to their careful observation of me, feeling more confident as I moved away. The water reached my shoulders, my neck, my nose. Then I was beneath the surface, no longer burdened by the weight of drenched clothing, moving more freely than I had whilst trudging in the sand and muck. I drifted to its center with ease. The current catered to me, changing course to keep me afloat.

It was different down here. _I_ was different down here. I knew when I finally went running back, bursting through the treeline with a big grin aching at my cheeks, I wouldn’t be able to describe it to him. I couldn’t pretend to understand the way he seemed to pinken after a big meal or the sleepy bliss of waking after a night swathed in warm blankets. But I felt like this had to be the closest feeling I had to having one of the basest needs sated.

I wanted him to have that. I wanted us to share that simple fulfillment of a basic need.

I let that feeling block everything else out, blinded by elation as I pulled him past the solid shore and up to his waist as tiny bumps prickled his tanned skin. And he followed. It didn’t have to do with my age or wisdom over his. He always came if I asked. Even now, with water up to his chest, his trust was infallible, green eyes sparkling with eager curiosity to know what it was I had been shouting about just minutes ago.

It was up to his chin now and I tugged, feeling a slight resistance in his steps. The water didn’t cater to him as it did to me, but I was sure I could make it if I wanted. I couldn’t hear the warnings we’d both been delivered so many times. There were so many we didn’t follow already. Too many to count. This felt no different.

I was totally submerged and already redirecting my thoughts to the flow; the way the chilly current washed over my skin, felt like _part_ of my skin, my energy. His movements were still heavy and clunky as mine had been, but with a swish of my hand, I propelled us to the deepest part of the pool and I let go.

I let go and I lost track of time.

It was exhilarating, being surrounded by water like this. Even knowing that this was the element my spirit attached to, I had never been fully engulfed like this before. It wasn’t the warm, soapy water of a bath, nor like the bucket I was provided with for practice. Those sources had felt somehow artificial, though I’d never known until this moment. I’d never had it right from the source. And then feeling his energy beside me while I was one with it;

I was over the moon.

It couldn’t have been very long. I hadn’t even turned to see his reaction yet, the look I was so sure I would receive and had anticipated since my brain spat out the idea of bringing him into the brook with me. But something had changed. His energy, perhaps. I wasn’t seasoned enough then to know. All I had felt was a sort of chill and when I turned my head to pinpoint the source, I finally was made aware of the fact that he was no longer directly beside me.

Movement from below drew my eyes to the distinct shape of his small body, cloak still wrapped around his throat and dancing in the water. But his motions were hardly as relaxed as the fabric that partially eclipsed him. It looked like thrashing, or what would have been thrashing, could he get enough traction and energy to do so.

Why wasn’t he just floating? Why was he all the way at the bottom and why was he so frantic? I was actually becoming angry with him. Bubbles exploded from his mouth and when I opened my mouth to ask what in the world he was doing if he wasn’t going to take this seriously, I became aware that my mouth produced none; no bubbles, no air.

His motions slowed somewhat and I drifted toward him with a crease between my brows and anxiety rising in my gut like that plume of bubbles that had since disappeared. The thoughts I should have had didn’t fully formulate until something else cut the water, shattering the glassy surface and blinding me by the white cascade of thousands and thousands of bubbles like a thick froth.

Delayed once again I realized someone had grabbed him, had hauled him up and out into the world above, into the sunlight that filtered in through the canopy of trees and broke into dancing fragments against the pool.

No one grabbed for me. No other bodies crashed through this private little pocket of earth I had been so eagerly showing my best friend.

I knew well something was terribly wrong.

I emerged from the water, half expecting an immediate scolding for what I had done and hesitant to receive such a slap on the wrist, but no eyes were on me as I surfaced.

His body was laid flat against the packed, slick mud, cloak discarded roughly two yards away. The hulking frame above him, dark blue garb and hands almost as large as his chest, were telling that Moymor had been the one to pull him out. I could only tell his hands were that large as they were currently pressed against the boy’s chest, pumping up and down, moving so roughly I was certain he was being hurt. But even as I wanted to step forward and yell for it to stop, my legs were frozen in fear, body shaking and able only to move just enough so I could see his face.

One of his feather earrings was missing. I’m not sure why I noticed that first. His head was tipped back so I couldn’t see his eyes, but he wasn’t crying, wasn’t fighting against the hands that looked as if they were trying to crush him into the banking. He wasn’t making any sound at all. His skin was ashen.

He wasn’t moving.

With eyes as wide as I could make them, I stood dumbfounded by his feet, watching the panicked flurry around me, hearing others voices crashing through the woods toward us. I heard Moymor curse, raise his hands away from the body below, and with an unfamiliar gesture, water burst from the boy’s mouth and nose as if it had been forced out from within.

The small body finally moved, convulsing with a sick cough as brown brows cinched together, soft face rumpled with pain and a raw red bled across his cheeks, filling him with color once more. His coughs brought on a bit more water while others swarmed him, petting his wet hair down, patting his cheeks, asking him urgent questions despite receiving no intelligible answer. He was scooped up and once lifted from the ground, began to cry, burying his sobs into the chest of Medea, who held and soothed him like a babe.

I stood, blank and stupid; water dripping from me, filling my boots, running in rivulets over the thin, precious metal that was always looped around my forehead.

And I never forgot again, not in the many years we’d live and grow together, that Sorey was a human, and I was not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry if it bummed anyone out, I just had the imagery in my head and wanted to explore what it would be like for two young kids who share everything together and the danger it could present when they both require such different things for survival.


End file.
